


Elevated

by onebatch2batch



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU - office, Ben is Rey's Boss, F/M, Kinda, Power Imbalance, alternative universe, but not really, child abuse mentions, claustrophobia mentions, he's a jerk, just in passing nothing explicit, rey's got a crush, smut in an elevator because why not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-28
Updated: 2020-03-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:26:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23351656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onebatch2batch/pseuds/onebatch2batch
Summary: Rey has worked for Solo & Dameron Inc, an architectural firm uptown, for over a year. When her alarm fails to go off one day, it sets off a series of events that makes her come to terms with her attraction to her boss, Ben Solo, resident grouch.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 12
Kudos: 139





	Elevated

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe how long this turned out. I wrote it over the last couple days, and I'm so excited to share it!

Rey has had a no good, terrible, awful, horrible, Guinness World Record kind of bad day. 

It starts in the morning. She wakes up slowly to the soft chirping of birds and traffic outside rather than the beeping of her alarm clock. Sunlight filters in through her blinds and caresses her cheek, warming her eyelids before she can force herself to crack them open. Her first thought is that daylight savings must finally be doing it’s job, and that the sun is rising earlier and earlier every day. Her second thought is that she should really be getting up now, because she needs to get in early for work and get some things done before everyone else gets there. 

She basks in the sun for a few more stolen moments and then finally blinks open her eyes to a glance at the time. The numbers on her alarm clock are flash at midnight. Dread sinks in her stomach like a stone and she shoots up, grappling for her phone. It’s on silent like it always is while she’s sleeping. She has several missed calls: three from Rose, one from Finn, and a grand total of five from none other than Ben Solo, her boss. He’s also sent a text, and she opens it with shaking hands. 

_ Call me.  _

Rey launches out of bed, immediately dialing his number. He answers on the second ring. 

“Where are you,” he asks without preamble in a voice that suggests he is absolutely not in the mood for his assistant to be—she glances at the time on her phone—four hours late to work. 

Rey winces. “Mr. Solo, I’m so sorry. My power must have gone out and my alarm shut off and—I’ll be in as soon as I can.” 

“I should hope so,” he snaps. And then the line goes dead. 

Rey has never really vibed with her boss, founder and one half partner of Solo & Dameron Inc, an exponentially growing architectural firm uptown. On day one she was hired by Poe who warned her in no uncertain terms about Ben Solo’s demeanor.  _ He can be a jerk, _ Poe had said of his partner,  _ but the pay is good and so are the benefits, if you have the backbone. Finn thinks you do. So, Rey, do you?  _

She had said yes, and she reminds herself of that every time Mr. Solo snaps at her, scowls at her, or generally makes her life miserable. She’s had tougher jobs, much meaner bosses, and she can handle this one as long as she doesn’t have to worry about rent or paying for groceries. It doesn’t help that, despite Ben Solo’s piss poor attitude, he’s insanely hot in that ‘grown up emo kid’ kind of way. She spends far too much time at her desk thinking about his dark eyes, his stupidly soft looking hair, and even softer looking lips. 

And the friends she has made make staying worth it, too. She has known Finn since college; he is one of the architects working for the firm and it was through him she finally found the job after being laid off from her previous one. Rose is one of the interiorscapers that works within the buildings they erect, and she became a fast friend as well. Tough and tenacious Tico—Rey had instantly taken a liking to her. 

It’s Rose she calls as she towels off from a quick shower, throwing on her skirt and blouse as fast as possible. 

“I hoped you were dead,” Rose tells her solemnly when she picks up. “Solo is in rare form today.” 

“I know, he barely said five words and then hung up. I have never been late a day in my life—ugh. Has he had coffee? Please say someone did a Starbucks run.” 

She fears an uncaffeinated Ben Solo far more than a caffeinated one. 

“Poe went earlier. Don’t stop for anything—just get here ASAP.” 

Rey curses, offers a harried thanks and then finishes her routine before running out the door. She forgoes her normal foundation, instead opting for a quick brush of mascara and lip gloss. She isn’t going to waste time dolling up—that’s just more reason for Ben Solo to be annoyed with her. 

She steps off the sidewalk into the street and immediately stumbles into a puddle, mud splashing up her leg. A curse flies from her lips. It had stormed the night before--the sure cause of her power outage--and it’s supposed to again tonight. She sends a prayer up that it holds off until she’s back home and then doesn’t give the mud another thought as she circles around to the driver’s side of her car. 

She stops short when she realizes that there is a long, deep, paint-curling dent in the door. 

“You have  _ got  _ to be kidding me,” she mutters, and then shakes her head, vowing to worry about it later. She doesn’t have time to worry about one more blemish on her junkpile of a vehicle. She needs to be at work  _ now.  _ The drive to the office is, thankfully, smooth—of course every other self respecting adult is already at work. That might be part of it. 

It’s nearly eleven by the time Rey steps into the elevator in her building. She takes it to the top floor in agitated nervousness, wiping sweating palms on her skirt. The elevator is typically the worst part of her day. The short ride up always fills her with a sense of unease due to her intense claustrophobia, and if there weren't so many floors she would take the stairs. As it is, she stands stock still and watches the numbers climb, holding her breath. 

Her pulse jumps when the doors ping, opening to reveal the wide expanse of Ben Solo’s floor. He started this company three years ago, building it—quite literally—from the ground up. The bottom floors are rented out to a handful of businesses, and the top six are reserved for Solo & Dameron Inc. She’s unclear about where the funds for this building came from, but she’s heard rumors of Solo’s job before this, working at a company called Snoke Enterprise across town. Evidently he was ruthless and prolific in his role there, which...isn’t so different from his role here. He takes his partnership with Poe Dameron very seriously, although Poe’s floor just under his is a completely different environment. On Rey’s break she’ll venture down to eat with him and Finn, laughing about this or that before returning to her cold, empty seat after the 30 minutes is up. Sometimes Rey wishes she would have been hired for Poe’s assistant, but wishing does nothing. She has a job that pays the bills, that is enough. 

Rey hurries to her chair and begins to boot up her computer, taking three times to type in her password due to her frazzled nerves. She’s aching for a cup of coffee but doesn’t dare go to the Keurig before she can start catching up with everything she’s behind on. She’s just begun to listen to Solo’s voicemails when the man himself emerges. 

As is customary, Rey locks eyes with her boss and feels the air steal from her lungs. Usually it’s due to the fact that her big, fat, unnecessary, ridiculous crush surfaces at the sight of Ben Solo in an expensive suit and perfect coiffed hair. Today, it’s because his dark eyes are staring at her with every inch of irritation that he can muster. 

“Thank you for blessing us with your presence today, Miss Niima,” he snipes after a brief pause. Rey sets the phone back in the cradle and bites her cheek from retorting back. Instead, she straightens and neutralizes her expression as much as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Solo. It won't happen again.”

“See that it doesn’t.” And then he turns and returns to his office, door snapping shut behind him. 

Rare form indeed. Rey lets her head thunk to the desk, groaning under her breath. 

—

It’s half past noon when the elevator dings and Poe saunters in, smiling at her. 

“Hey, Rey.” He sets down a steaming cup of coffee and a brown bag, taking a seat opposite her desk. “I brought you some lunch. And coffee. I hope that’s—“

“You’re a life saver,” Rey breathes, interrupting him. She quickly grabs for the coffee and brings it to her face, inhaling the deep aroma with a moan of pleasure. Her relationship with Poe is an extension of her relationship with Finn, and she feels much more comfortable around this partner rather than the one she actually works for.

Poe grins. “That’s why they pay me the big bucks. I figured you wouldn’t have time seeing as how you…you know.”

Rey sighs. “Yeah, I know. Thanks, this is great. How much do I owe you?”

“Don’t worry about it. I can’t pay people bonuses to deal with that guy—“ he jerks a thumb at Solo’s closed door— “but at least I can buy you lunch. Is he on the phone, by the way?” 

Rey glances down at his line and shakes her head. “No. I’ll page in.” 

She can tell he wants to burst in unannounced, as is his habit, but he waits. They both know Solo is not in the mood for his theatrics today, partner or not. Rey pushes the button and clears her throat. 

“Mr. Solo? Mr. Dameron to see you.” 

“Fine.” 

Poe makes a face at the door, and Rey quickly hangs up before he accompanies the look with some incriminating words. She needs no help in pissing off her boss today. Poe stands and offers her a small smile. 

“I'll distract him while you eat.” 

_ Life saver _ she mouths again, watching the office door swing shut behind him. When the coast is clear, Rey digs into the bag and pulls out some kind of loaded sub sandwich, a bag of chips, and a cookie. The cookie and chips she throws in her desk for later, but the sub she attacks with vigor, a habit she hasn’t quite unlearned from her foster home days. It doesn’t take long for her to finish with that, and then she alternates checking emails and taking generous sips of her steaming coffee. 

Nearly forty five minutes later Poe remerges, looking frazzled and annoyed. Solo follows, scowling. He directs his foul expression to Rey. “Miss Niima, if you could  _ please _ —“ he scowls at Poe here, “—cancel my next two appointments, I need to step out.” 

“Yes, si—“

But he’s already pulling out his cell and dialing a number, stepping onto the elevator with Poe who sends her an apologetic look. And then the doors close and she is, thankfully, alone. 

The rest of the day is just as hectic. She manages to get through Solo’s voicemails and she’s halfway through emails by the time he returns. He doesn’t speak as he traverses the carpet towards his office, but there’s a moment where she feels his eyes on her like lasers. However when she looks up his gaze is elsewhere. He steps in and slams the door. 

Rey winces and looks at the time. Three forty five in the afternoon; she suspects she’ll be here far past five playing catch up. Resigned, she dives back into her emails. 

—

As a young girl, Rey had been scrappy.  _ Feral _ , she had overheard one of her foster parents say just before shipping her back to the orphanage. Uncontrollable. Unruly. All throughout her life, Rey has been the one people leave behind. She is always too much or too little. She is never  _ enough _ . As an adult she takes her career seriously. Losing her job at the garage had been a devastating blow, but when requirements changed and her unfinished BA wasn’t  _ enough _ , they had to let her go. She certainly doesn’t have the money to go back to school and finish her engineering degree now—and so she settles on the life she has built. She goes to work, tailors her sarcasm and wit into clipped answers and politeness, and does her job. She takes pride in it, even though some small part of her diminishes with each passing day. 

In this way, she can’t be abandoned again. She will leave on her terms or not at all. 

It’s with this thought that Rey glances at the time on her computer, sighing at the  **7:26pm** staring back at her. This day has proved to be never ending, but she refuses to leave until her boss does. If anything, just to prove she’s not The Worst Employee Ever. Outside she can hear the pattering of rain and a glance at the wall of windows determines the storms have begun, droplets pounding against the glass in a calming cacophony of noise. So much for getting home before it starts—now she’ll have to walk the two blocks to her car sans umbrella. Great. 

Nearly twenty minutes later, the office door opens and Solo stops short, looking at her with something like surprise. “Miss Niima,” he says, and then pauses. “...you’re still here.” 

He seems to be in a better mood than this afternoon. Rey sits up a little straighter, clearing her throat. “Just trying to catch up on some work, sir. From—from this morning.” 

He watches her with narrowed eyes which slowly soften to cool apathy. “You can go now, I’m just leaving myself.” 

She feels a little more breathless than she’d like from his stare, and she tapers down the blush threatening to rise. “Are you sure? I can stay—“

“Miss Niima,” he says, exasperated. He locks the door of his office and turns to face her. “It’s nothing that can’t be done tomorrow.” 

Cowed, Rey hurriedly gathers her things. She shuts down her computer, increasingly aware of how her boss is standing a few paces away. Waiting for her. Silent. She stands and quickly shrugs on her jacket, and then follows him across the carpet. 

Solo presses the button to the elevator and they wait in silence as it rises up to meet them. It’s awkward to say the least. Rey tries not to think about how in a few moments his tall, broad form will be crowded into a small,  _ small _ space with her and she will be trapped. She shifts nervously and when the doors open he gestures her in, impassive. 

They tuck into the elevator and he reaches over to press the lobby button. Just before the doors close, she hears the rumbling of thunder outside. And then they’re moving swiftly down the shaft, silent--but not swiftly enough. It’s with a creak and a shudder that the elevator jolts to a sudden stop and the lights flicker off. Rey tastes, almost instantly, the overwhelmingly sour taste of  _ panic.  _

“Shit,” her boss curses in his deep baritone. She’s never heard him curse before, but she doesn’t have the mental capacity to process it. It’s well known by her close friends that each elevator ride she takes is its own 30 seconds of hell that she barely suffers through twice a day. Anything longer than that, and her claustrophobia begins to shift from a smoky figment to a very real, intense, solid  _ fear _ . 

Rey focuses on not moving, eyes staring ahead of her unseeingly. The emergency lights flicker on seconds later but she still doesn’t move. Her chest has begun to constrict painfully and there’s a lump in her throat that grows fast, suffocating her breath. She doesn’t realize she’s gasping for air until large, warm hands close around her arms. 

“Rey?  _ Rey!”  _

Her boss is shouting her name when she comes back to herself. Rey turns slowly to look at him, eyes wide and heart racing. “S-sir?”

“What’s going on? Are you alright?” He actually looks...worried, for her. He has ducked his head to look into her eyes, and his dark hair is falling across his forehead. Rey counts every beauty mark and freckle on his face before she can bring herself to speak. 

“I’m a little—a little claustrophobic,” she informs him weakly, knees buckling. She sinks to the ground and he goes down with her, strong grip holding her until she’s sitting firmly against the wall. 

“A little?” He asks, and it takes a moment of shifting through the fog in her mind to realize he’s messing with her. 

“Did you just—make a joke?” She gasps incredulously, but her breathing comes just a small increment easier. His hands fall away from her arms suddenly, as if he remembers that he’s her boss, and she the employee. He clears his throat, but doesn’t stand. 

Instead of answering her though, he sweeps his eyes over her face. “Are you going to pass out? You need—Rey,  _ breathe _ .”

She takes a deep, steadying breath and closes her eyes. It’s all too much with him barely a foot away, the spicy smell of his cologne filling her nose, the warmth from his palms lingering on her skin. The elevator has not started it’s descent yet, and they sit in semi-darkness as she collects herself. It’s slow going, but he doesn’t seem rushed. Nor does he laugh at her or look at her with pity. He just waits, watching patiently with those dark eyes that threaten to swallow her whole. After what seems like an eternity but what must only be a few minutes, she manages to calm down enough to ask, “Is there anyone—we can call?” 

Ben—if they’re on first name basis she may as well think of him as such—pulls out his phone and grimaces. “No service. You?” 

She digs through her purse with bated breath, groaning when she sees the absolute zero bars of service on her screen. Ben hums, standing to peer at the control panel. From this vantage point, Rey has a spectacular view of his legs and subsequently the delicious shape of his rear through his trousers. She tries hard not to stare, but it’s much better than thinking about her current predicament, so she attempts to at least be subtle. 

Ben’s voice reaches her a moment later. “There’s an emergency switch, but it doesn’t seem to be working.” 

Rey drops her head in her hands and squeezes her eyes shut.  _ Deep breaths, it’s just an elevator, you’ve ridden in it hundreds of times, I’m sure this happens to a lot of people… _

She is distracted when there’s a rustling, and then Ben takes a seat across from her, legs outstretched nearly to her thighs, crossed at the ankles. Rey meets his gaze and then glances away nervously. It starts to sink in that there is a real chance she and her boss—who she is hopelessly attracted to—might be spending the night here together. In an elevator. Trapped. 

Rey gulps down her panic. Ben seems to notice, because he clears his throat. “So...this doesn’t seem to be your day, Miss Niima.”

Back to formalities. Rey feels the loss sharply, and tells herself that she’s being ridiculous. He’s her boss. She’s freaking out over something that he—seemingly—has no qualms about. He’s just trying to be polite. 

And yet. 

“Tell me about it,” she grumbles, heels of her palms pressed to her eyes as if that alone could rid her of her phobia. 

“Or you could tell me.”

She lifts her head to stare at him, confused, but his expression is carefully blank. She waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. “...sir?” she prompts, lost. 

“Tell me about your day.” 

She must still be in some sick, twisted nightmare. She just never woke up this morning—and everything that has happened today is the consequent result of that. The alarm, the puddle, the dent, Ben’s ire, and now this hellish escapade into her deepest fears where she’s trapped in a 6ft by 6ft room with no power, being asked to tell her boss about the tediousness of her day: all of it is a  _ nightmare _ . 

“Uh,” she says eloquently, staring at him. 

Ben’s lips twitch into a ghost of a smirk. Just a flash, only enough to see between blinks. “Rey,” he says gently, “I’m trying to distract you.” 

It’s the tone of his voice that undoes her. He’s so  _ soft _ , so unlike his normal irritability, so  _ caring _ that it strokes at something delicate inside her, and she feels hot tears well up in her eyes. She does her best to wipe them before he can see, but by the rigidness of his form and the slowly dawning expression of horror on his face, she can see that her efforts are fruitless. 

“I’m sorry,” she sniffs. “It’s been—it’s been a terrible day and—I’m so sorry I was late this morning, it won't happen again, I swear—“

She’s blubbering nonsense, unable to stop the trash compactor that is her mouth when Ben leans forward and rests a hand on her ankle, drawing a shiver from her. He looks stricken, and he waits until her mouth snaps shut to speak. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry, too. I had a bad day as well and—I took it out on you. For that, I'm sorry. You don’t have to be…afraid of me.” 

Rey takes a shuddering breath. She wants to tell him that it’s not  _ him _ he’s scared of. She’s scared of how a simple, reassuring touch lights a fire in her belly. How each morning she's excited to come to work, butterflies erupting when she sees him. How she wishes—…

Rey realizes he’s waiting for a response, so she nods slowly. “Okay.” Then, as an afterthought that escapes from her lips before she can stop it: “Why did you have a bad day?” 

Ben leans back, releasing her ankle. He crosses his arms and looks up, head hitting the wall with a soft thud. He looks at if he’s debating telling her, and then he does. “A number of reasons, but mostly my father called and we got into it. We don’t talk often. And then you didn’t come in and I thought I finally scared you off.” She’s just digesting this when his lips quirk in a small, self deprecating smile. “I’m told I’m hard to get along with.”

Rey lowers her eyes, letting the silence draw out until she can hardly stand it. “My alarm went out,” she finally murmurs. “And then I stepped in a mud puddle, and someone hit my car...and then I got here and—…”

She stops abruptly, realizing that the rest of her bad day concerns him. That she walked into work and was immediately berated. That he looked so put together, so handsome in his suit in dark hair and dark eyes that she almost didn’t care he was being mean. That she walked on eggshells all day to keep him on the right side of annoyed with her. That all she wanted was for him to realize she was good at her job, that she was  _ enough _ . 

Now, she just wants out of this damn elevator. 

Ben shakes his head and sighs. “I think I can gather the rest.”

They fall into uneasy silence. Rey knows, deep down, that the walls are not closing in on her. He would notice if they were, surely. But with every passing moment it seems like it’s another degree hotter, another inch smaller, another foot higher from the lobby. She feels a little sick.

“So I haven’t, then?” Ben asks quietly after a very long time. Rey meets his gaze questioningly, but he drops his eyes the moment she does. He seems flustered. Maybe a little...shy? 

“Sir?”

“Scared you off.”

Rey should be embarrassed by how quickly she sucks in a breath. “No, Mr. Solo, you haven’t.”

“Please,” he says, smiling wryly. “I think it’s time we skip the formalities. Call me Ben.”

Her panic lowers to a dull roar at the sight of his smile. It’s wonderful, something childlike and immediately endearing. She thinks that it’s a shame that she’s worked 20 feet from him for over a year, and this is the first time she’s seen it. Ben clears his throat at her silence, and then looks around as if searching for a safe topic. 

This is a completely different person than the boss who had been her sole frustration for the past 13 months. Emotionally, mentally, sexually—in every manner of the word he had been frustrating to her. Obstinate, angry, taciturn, and most frustrating of all,  _ hot.  _ She’s known it from day one, but his sour attitude had starved off her desire for nearly six months before his plush lips, dark eyes, and tall stature began to haunt her dreams. And now, on top of being so attractive it’s painful, he’s being  _ nice. _

Nightmare, indeed. 

“Are we going to be stuck in here all night?” she asks, swallowing thickly. 

Ben’s gaze flickers to hers and holds it for a beat too long. “Yes, I think so. Are you going to be alright?”

She hesitates. If this were any other person she would tell them where her fears originated. But he’s her boss, and while they might be trapped in here, there’s still some level of professionalism she’d like to keep. He doesn’t need to know her tragic backstory--although his eyes are searching her as if trying to put together a piece of a puzzle that doesn’t quite match. As if he truly wants to know how she’s feeling.

“I was in foster care my whole life.” She watches as his curious gaze morphs into one of bemusement. “And in one of the homes--the man there was--...not very nice. He kept a handful of us around. I was five the first time he locked me in a cupboard.” Rey lowers her eyes, burning with shame. “Any time he thought I was being bad, he would put me in the cupboard. He didn’t care that I was terrified. I think--I think that made it better for him. I would be in there for hours at a time. Once he left me there all night and I--...” 

She hazards a peek at his expression and stops short at the emotion on his face. Anger, more anger than she’s ever seen on him. His face is flushed and eyes wide and teeth gritted, and Rey shrinks away out of habit, pressing against the wall. Had she misread his concern? Had he only asked out of obligation? Is he angry with her? 

Ben softens as soon as she moves away, holding out his hands placatingly. “Hey, Rey, wait, I’m sorry.” He stumbles over the words, rushing to get them out. “I’m not mad at you, I just--that’s so terrible. I’m so sorry.”

The tension leaves her in one fell swoop. Rey exhales slowly and examines him as confusion blankets her thoughts. Who is this man? He is not the same as the one she screens calls for. He is not the man who sends interns home crying. He is some softer, kinder version that surely, her brain has dreamed up to deal with her trauma. Before she can stop to consider her next words, she blurts them out: “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Guilt flashes across his face. They stare at each other in silence until he speaks. “What do you think of me, Rey?”

Lying has never been her strong suit. Even as a child she had obvious tells that got her in trouble more often than she would have liked. As an adult she does her best not to--not only is she insultingly bad at hiding the truth, but she doesn’t see much of a point. She would rather get everything out into the open and be done with it. With Ben’s question, she knows she’ll have to lie. The idea makes her sweat. 

“You’re my boss,” she sputters, twisting her fingers. “And you’re--intense. And tall. Um.”

Ben is looking at her blankly, as if carefully tempering his expression. He says nothing in response to her garbled words, which she takes to mean he wants her to continue. She stares at her lap. “Well, um...sometimes you can be a little….mean?”

Ben huffs out a noise that sounds dangerously close to a laugh; Rey glances up in surprise. His eyebrows draw together again in seriousness. “We’re stuck in an elevator, Rey. Now’s the time, if you have criticisms.”

“I mean I don’t have--have criticism--”

“Rey, I’m serious--”

“I am too--”

“You don’t have to be afraid of me--”

“Stop saying that,” Rey snaps suddenly, frustration briefly overtaking her nervousness. “Do you honestly think I’d still be working for you if I was scared?”

Ben’s brows raise. “Then why  _ do _ you?”

“Because I like you!” she half-shouts, and then recoils from her own words, horrified. A small voice in the back of her head shrieks at her to take it back. “I mean, that’s not what I meant--”

She realizes, with a jolt, that Ben is looking at her with a heat completely separate from anger. His head is tilted as he watches her through half-lidded eyes, and when he lifts his chin to appraise her more thoroughly, her eyes are drawn to the careful, lush way his lips part. “What did you mean, then?” he asks in a voice so deep that it draws a shiver from her. 

Rey says nothing. There isn’t anything to say, when he’s looking at her like that. Like he wants to yank her across the scant few feet between them onto his lap. Instead, she opens and closes her mouth desperately, fears forgotten as her heart pounds in her chest. She supposes she should be glad that he can distract her from their situation. But if he keeps looking at her like that, she doesn’t know what she’ll do. 

“Rey.”

She feels the heat rising on her cheeks. “I don’t know.”

That is, at least, the truth. Rey doesn’t know what she meant to say, but that certainly wasn’t it. She wasn’t planning on telling her very attractive boss that she's into him or that she wants to do some serious paperback-romance-novel shit with him right here in this suspended death trap. 

“Do you want to know what I think of you?” 

The question catches her off guard. He seems to be doing a lot of that tonight. 

Ben doesn’t wait for a response. “I think that you’re too smart to be an assistant, and that you work hard and you make the best out of bad situations. I think  _ you _ think you’re sneaky when you hide chips in your desk and snack on them between phone calls. I think that you’ve charmed everyone in that office to love you, rightfully so. I think that your damn pencil skirts drive me crazy. But most of all I think that you know exactly why you’re still working for me, even though I’m an insufferable  _ ass _ . Even though there’s plenty of jobs out there.”

She doesn’t know what to say. He’s right, of course. She could have left six months ago. Eight months ago. But she hadn’t--because there was a part of her that would have missed him. Rey can’t tear her eyes from his own open, heated gaze.

“Ben,” is all she can whisper.

It’s the first time she’s ever called him by name. The implication is not lost on him. For half a second he is still and then he’s on his knees, meeting her halfway. It takes some additional time for her to scramble up due to her pencil skirt and with a hint of impatience he puts two large hands on her ribs and hoists her up against him. 

Ben’s lips meet hers with a gentleness she is not expecting. He kisses her tenderly, one hand slipping into her hair while the other presses into her spine, drawing her closer. His tongue swipes against the seam of her mouth and she opens to him with a soft sigh. He tastes of coffee. His lips are so soft it makes her bones weak. There’s a small thrill to the idea that she’s kissing her boss, but Rey knows that there’s more to it. It’s  _ more _ in the way he cups her jaw, in the way he pulls back to nuzzle at her neck. 

“You have no idea,” he says, voice strained, “how long I’ve wanted to do that.” 

“Then do it again,” she tells him breathlessly.

Ben huffs a laugh against her skin, then recaptures her lips in a more focused, searing kiss that makes her toes curl. Her knees have started to ache from kneeling on the hard floor and he seems to come to the same conclusion because she’s being pushed backwards until he’s hovering above her horizontal form, mouth still moving against her own. Rey reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck, heart pounding in her ears. He’s so big, looming over her like this, and she wants nothing more than to have him settled between her legs. 

“My skirt,” she groans, wriggling beneath him to undo the zipper. 

Ben pulls away and focuses his efforts on helping her remove it. When the offending fabric has been thrown into the corner, she pulls him down and shivers at the delicious heat of him, his weight pressing her into the cold metal floor. Ben drops his head to her shoulder, hips jerking against her own. His shallow breaths hit her collarbone. He’s got one hand planted beside her head and the other cupping her chin, turning her head to give better access to her neck. It’s not enough. 

“Rey,” he groans as her hands grapple for his belt, undoing it so that she can yank his dress shirt out from his trousers. “Wait, wait.” 

Rey stills, looking up at him in confusion when he pulls away. His arms cage her head and he looks strained. “This isn’t—you don’t have to do this if—you don’t want to. I’m your boss, and—“

“Ben Solo,” she starts evenly, making his eyes widen, “I have wanted this for a year. If you don’t get down here and kiss me again—“

He doesn’t get to find out what will happen. He leans down and eagerly captures her lips again, and she’s lost to the heat of him and the growing moisture between her legs, in the way his hands brush down her sides and how his fingers dip between the waistband of her underwear. She’s endlessly thankful that tomorrow is laundry day because her only clean underwear had been her lacey,  _ I’m getting laid  _ underwear. Although it seems like Ben wouldn't have cared anyway, with the way he leans back and watches her face rather than ogles her choice of intimates. She gives his questioning look a shaky nod, and then his hand creeps lower to cup her sex, one long finger drawing through her folds. 

“Jesus,” he mutters, as if to himself. “Jesus, Rey, you’re so wet already.”

Rey’s too busy trying to convince herself she’s not dreaming to really answer. All she manages is a breathy  _ yes  _ and a keening protest when he moves away. He gives her a mischievous look from his new position, kneeling between her legs, and grabs her hips. Rey’s unsure of what his plan is until he pulls her towards him. In careful movements he drapes her legs over his shoulder. His hands brace her lower back and contort her into an angle that allows his mouth perfect access to where she wants him most. 

With the first swipe of his tongue, Rey lets out a sharp cry. Her hands alternate between pressing against the floor in an attempt to keep her hips elevated and finding the soft tresses of hair between her thighs, desperate for something to keep her grounded to. To anchor her to the building pressure in her belly. The angle is weird due to their limited space but she can hardly bring herself to care. Ben presses a single finger into her, and then a second when she takes a jagged breath. Heat fills her until she feels like she’s drowning in it. 

Dimly, she thinks about the camera in the corner of the elevator. Surely with the power off, it has stopped recording. Right? 

Any other questions dissolve into the ether when Ben curls his fingers in just the right way, sending her careening over a cliff. Rey lets out a choked cry, reaching up to grab his hair, his face, anything she can to ride out the sudden wave of pleasure that hits her. 

When she comes back to herself, Ben has carefully set her down and is pressing soft, unhurried kisses to her navel. 

“Ben,” she murmurs, tugging at his clothed shoulders. “ _ Ben.” _

He laughs, finally drawing up to kiss her again. She can taste herself on his tongue, but she doesn’t care. Can’t care, when his mouth is on hers and this is everything she’s wanted since she first stepped into his office. Rey lets out a soft breath when his fingers dive under her shirt, working the clasp of her bra until her breasts are free. His fingers are rough and calloused when he brushes them against the hardening peaks of her nipples. 

Rey focuses, busies herself with undoing the button on his pants, and when she glances up at his face, he’s looking at her with something like amazement. 

“Your freckles,” he says in wonder, “how have I never noticed them before?”

“I didn’t put on foundation today,” she says, flushing, “didn’t have time.”

He laughs, full and robust, and brushes a thumb over her cheek. He leans in once more to kiss her when the elevator lights come on and with a loud hum, the elevator begins its descent once more. 

It’s unclear who freezes first, but for a moment the spell is broken and they stare at each other in surprise. Then Ben is up and handing her skirt over, helping her step into it and zipping it up. Rey tucks his shirt into his belt with shaking hands, keeping her eyes lowered. It’s the first time in her life she’s ever wanted to stay on the elevator. In this little bubble where every dream she’s ever had comes true, and she can’t help but think the moment they leave that it will be over. 

They come to a stop at the lobby and Rey suddenly reaches out, hitting the emergency stop button. Ben shifts away in shock, looking down at her. 

“I don’t want this to end,” she admits softly. 

Ben smiles then, reaching out to take her hand. He looks perfectly dishevelled with finger-ruined hair and flushed cheeks, and when he leans down to kiss her there’s a promise in his lips. “I didn’t say anything about stopping. But I suspect there’s someone waiting for us when the door opens.” 

Rey flushes, patting down her hair self-consciously. “Oh, right.”

He reaches out to flip the switch again, and then hesitates, looking back at her searchingly. “I live close,” he says, but it comes out more as a question. 

Rey gives him a slow, bright smile. “Yes.” 

Ben grins at her, that same boyish, happy smile from before--and hits the button. 

The bell pings, and the doors open. 

—

The next morning, Rey wakes to an alarm unfamiliar to her ears. She groans and burrows deeper into the blankets, into the warmth at her side. 

“Turn it off,” she mumbles to the thick expanse of skin pressed against hers. 

There’s a shift of the bed, and then the room falls into silence once more. Rey lapses into sleep again, and then is yanked back out by lips on her forehead. 

“Go shower,” Ben tells her in a sleep-tinged voice. “I’ll get coffee started.” 

When he’s gone, Rey stretches until she hears her joints pop, and then shuffles into the adjoining bathroom, flicking on the shower. She stands shivering until it’s a decent temperature and then steps in, sighing happily as the spray massages her sore muscles. She is scrubbing his shampoo into her hair when the curtain pulls back and Ben’s tall form joins her. 

Rey turns and smiles up at him. “Good morning.”

Ben smiles back, kissing her softly. “Good morning.”

She tilts her head back to wash the shampoo from her hair, and then Ben’s hands settle at her waist, turning her around. Rey blinks her eyes open just in time to see him reach past her for the conditioner. She’d been thrilled to see he has mildly scented shampoo and conditioner—the last thing she needs is questions about why she smells like Axe. Ben’s fingers draw through her hair, folding the conditioner through it gently. Rey hums with pleasure, leaning back against him. There’s something hard that presses against her hip. 

“You’re insatiable,” she tells him with a laugh. 

Ben huffs but doesn’t respond, turning her to wash out the conditioner. 

She could stay here for hours, especially when his hands drop from her hair to her body, pulling soft gasps and sighs from her lips. When he presses her against the wall of the shower, she feels him nudge at her entrance, and then he’s fucking her carefully, gently into the wall. She’s still sore from the night before, but she’d rather be locked in a closet than stop. She’s sure Ben feels the same with the way he mouths at the wet skin of her shoulder. The way his arms embrace her, drawing her to him as his hips jerk against her own. It’s as he’s washing her off after that she realizes she's going to be late two days in a row. 

Somehow this time, she doesn’t think it will be an issue. 

  
  



End file.
